Chapter 87

The concert ended, and the audience gradually filed out.

At the entrance of Binjiang Cultural Center, a dense crowd made it impossible to hail a taxi.

Chen Yansen took Meng Jie one more block further, and only then did the situation improve; they got into a car, and Chen Yansen told the driver to head to the Marriott Hotel.

“My dad booked me a room next to the Marriott—I can’t stay with you tonight,” Meng Jie whispered, leaning against Chen Yansen’s chest.

After Meng Zhen Guo heard Wei Zhe explain the situation, he immediately rebooked his daughter a different hotel.

He thought: absolutely no chance for Chen Yansen.

As a man, he knew exactly what an eighteen-year-old boy was thinking—he didn’t want his own eighteen-year-old cabbage to be stolen by that scoundrel Chen Yansen.

“Uncle Meng really doesn’t trust my character.”

A flicker of secret delight passed through Chen Yansen’s eyes; he frowned, feigning disappointment.

“It’s precisely because Dad trusts your character that he booked me a hotel,” Meng Jie shot him a look and grinned.

“Then don’t go stay there?” Chen Yansen suggested.

“No! Dad definitely told the front desk—I won’t go, and he’ll fly to Shanghai tonight,” Meng Jie shook her head seriously.

“Alright, let’s go back to the Marriott first to get your luggage, then I’ll take you to the new hotel.”

Chen Yansen sighed, pretending to look disappointed.

“Okay!” Meng Jie linked her arm through his and gazed out the window.

This day’s experience was unforgettable—probably the most unforgettable birthday of her life.

For some reason, the image of her crying loudly outside the coffee shop that morning suddenly flashed in her mind; her cheeks flushed red—she rarely cried as a child, and now the thought only made her feel embarrassed.

In her view, girls who cried all the time were the most annoying—but back then, watching Chen Yansen being taken away by the patrol, she grew more and more terrified.

Some things, you only realize you want to hold onto when you’re about to lose them—and by then, it’s often too late.

Thinking of this, she gripped Chen Yansen’s arm tighter.

“Do you like it here?” Chen Yansen asked softly, pointing to the towering skyscrapers and the glittering night skyline of Shanghai.

“Fine for tourism, but I couldn’t live or work here—I’d never adapt. Everyone walks at least three times faster than back home; it feels exhausting just to live.”

Meng Jie smiled, speaking with deep feeling.

“Little girl, you don’t understand—Shanghai’s housing is crazy expensive. If you’re a step slower every day, you’ll be hundreds of steps behind in a year—how could you ever afford a house?”

The taxi driver, overhearing their conversation, couldn’t help joining in.

“So I still think home is better—blue bricks, black tiles, ancient alleys, everywhere full of everyday warmth,” Meng Jie replied.

The driver silently sneered, thinking these two young people were probably college students: kids never know anything—wait till they grow up, and they’ll be even less able to afford a house!

Soon, the car pulled up to the hotel entrance.

Chen Yansen pulled Meng Jie into the room, lingered affectionately for over half an hour, then escorted her to the nearby chain hotel.

Afterward, Chen Yansen didn’t return to the Marriott—he headed toward a KFC at the street corner.

Night was deep, the cold wind biting.

Warm light flickered through the three-meter-tall glass window; Chen Yansen saw Song Yuncheng sitting on a chair, staring blankly at the table.

“Tap-tap-tap—”

Chen Yansen knocked on the glass.

Song Yuncheng snapped back to awareness; the moment she saw Chen Yansen, her dull eyes instantly lit up.

Almost instinctively, she stood, ran, and pushed open the door.

But standing before Chen Yansen, she grew timid—she didn’t know what to say, or what to do.

“You left your post without permission—do you want me to dock your pay?”

Seeing her haggard appearance, Chen Yansen sighed lightly and teased, frowning.

“Chen Yansen, I’m just glad you’re okay,” Song Yuncheng mumbled, head bowed.

“You traveled a thousand miles just to say that?” Chen Yansen stared straight at her.

“I… I wanted to see you.”

Song Yuncheng found courage she didn’t know she had; dragging her heavy steps, she timidly hugged Chen Yansen—her whisper of “I wanted to see you” was barely audible.

Chen Yansen froze, stunned—he hadn’t expected Song Yuncheng to be so bold, to confess to him so directly.

“I think I’ve fallen for you, Chen Yansen—what should I do?” Song Yuncheng lifted her head, staring straight into his eyes; tears she could no longer hold back rolled down her cheeks.

“Falling for me is a good thing—no need to feel inferior.”

Chen Yansen joked, pulling her tightly into his arms; the fresh, youthful scent of the girl enveloped him.

Girls like Song Yuncheng don’t require clever tactics to win over—99% looks and 1% thoughtful care are enough to make them throw themselves at you.

Chen Yansen’s lips curled slightly—a duck flew away, but a goose arrived; tonight, he’d finally get his meat.

“Let me hold you for a bit—I’m so tired. Just a little while.”

Song Yuncheng pressed tightly against him, murmuring softly; usually, Chen Yansen took advantage of her—but now, she was the one taking advantage of him.

She realized his scent was like pine wood from her hometown—fresh, clean, slowly calming her heart.

“Want to sleep at my place tonight? There’s still a sofa.”

The wind outside was strong, chilling her scalp; Chen Yansen asked.

“I’ll find my own hotel—I’m flying back to Xucheng tomorrow. You should stay with Meng Jie.”

Song Yuncheng pulled away from Chen Yansen, stepping back; when it came to sleeping together, she still subconsciously wanted to avoid him.

“She’s staying at the hotel next door—no one will find out.”

Chen Yansen smirked—he wasn’t about to let this meat slip away.

At this moment, Song Yuncheng’s defenses were at their weakest; a light push would unlock the final door.

“I like you, but I don’t want to be with you—you have a girlfriend.”

Song Yuncheng stepped back another pace; her meaning was clear: I like you, but it has nothing to do with you.

“Don’t worry—I won’t do anything to you. Don’t you trust me?” Chen Yansen lied with a straight face.

Song Yuncheng gave a soft scoff—precisely because she trusted Chen Yansen too much, she was afraid.

“Enough talking! Come with me, or I’ll fire you,” Chen Yansen waved his hand impatiently, turned, and walked straight toward the hotel.

Song Yuncheng stood frozen until the cold wind stung her face; only then did she reluctantly follow.

Chen Yansen’s handsome face only made her angrier the more she looked at it.

She handed over her ID, checked in.

Song Yuncheng was very familiar with the process; she followed Chen Yansen onto the elevator, straight to the upper floors.

The hotel front desk clerk frowned—he remembered the girl this guest brought back yesterday didn’t look like this one!

“Did you bring clean underwear?”

Chen Yansen kicked the door shut, leaned against it, and glanced sideways at Song Yuncheng.

“Yes.” Today, Song Yuncheng was unusually docile—completely different from her usual fiery self.

“Who goes first? You, me, or together?”

Chen Yansen posed another profoundly deep question.

“Don’t bully me, okay?” Song Yuncheng’s voice was gentle, heart-wrenching; her watery eyes fixed on Chen Yansen.

“Fine, you go first—I won’t rush you.”

Chen Yansen’s heart softened under her gaze; he waved his hand and walked into the bedroom.

Once Chen Yansen was far enough away, Song Yuncheng exhaled in relief, set down her backpack, pulled out her pajamas, and clicked the bathroom door shut.

Chen Yansen took out his laptop from his suitcase, scrolled through the project group messages, then called Liu Zhicheng at Jiushen Network: first thanking him, then getting straight to the point:

“Director Liu, I trust you and Jiushen Network—but we must follow the contract. Regardless of the investigation’s outcome, FoxTao’s user experience and reputation have suffered severely.”

After laying the groundwork, Chen Yansen continued: “For this batch of Maotai wine, I’ll offer users a tenfold refund—money will be deducted from Jiushen Network’s guarantee deposit.”

Liu Zhicheng smiled bitterly—he understood Chen Yansen’s position, but he knew internally that Jiushen Network’s warehouse staff were clean.

That meant the Maotai wine must have been switched during transit—whether the issue was at the sorting center or the final delivery point, they were still investigating.

In this case, Jiushen Network was also a victim.

Liu Zhicheng thought for a moment, and ultimately dared not break ties with Chen Yansen: “Fair enough. Once we identify the responsible party, we’ll hold them accountable.”

Chen Yansen exchanged a few more pleasantries and hung up.

Then he called Cao Dahua; he didn’t utter a word of thanks, only said the tea, cigarettes, and wine in Shanghai were excellent—he’d bring him some local specialties when he returned.

Cao Dahua politely refused, but his laughter betrayed his pleasure.

After finishing these tasks, Chen Yansen stood before the glass wall, pondering Zhang Hanhua—whether Zhang Hanhua was involved didn’t matter; Chen Yansen intended to destroy him.

He had spent years navigating the business world; in dirty tricks, Zhang Hanhua couldn’t match him even with ten heads.

In mere minutes, several half-baked plans surfaced in his mind.

Just then, a sudden thud echoed from the bathroom—like someone falling.

Chen Yansen turned and rushed to the bedroom door, shouting: “Song Yuncheng, are you okay?”

He called out several times—no response.

Chen Yansen hurried to the bathroom door, knocked—no answer. He knew something was wrong.

He stepped back, then lunged forward with full force.

“Crash!” The solid wood door burst open!

Steam filled the bathroom; Song Yuncheng lay sprawled on the floor, eyes closed, water cascading from the showerhead over her body.

Chen Yansen glanced quickly—no time to admire—he shut off the water, then shook Song Yuncheng.

She didn’t move; her skin was flushed red.

Chen Yansen placed his hand on her forehead and immediately understood—her forehead burned like fire, hot enough to fry an egg.

“You don’t say a word even when you have a fever—you’re such a hassle.”

Chen Yansen scooped up Song Yuncheng, lifted her, grabbed a towel, and wrapped her tightly in it.

He’d been right all along—Song Yuncheng was indeed C.

Damn, she looks so innocent, but her body is so fierce.

Chen Yansen laid her on the bed, picked up the landline, and explained the situation to the front desk.

“Sorry, Mr. Chen, we don’t have fever-reducing medicine here. Let us know what you need, and we can go buy it for you.”

The hotel staff responded quickly—their service was quite good.

Chen Yansen rattled off several drug names before hanging up.

These days, food delivery was just getting started, and pharmaceuticals weren’t even in their service range.

Add to that it was late at night—buying medicine was truly a hassle.

Fortunately, the front desk worked efficiently; less than half an hour later, someone knocked on the door and delivered a bag of medicine, including fever reducers, anti-inflammatories, and a thermometer.

Chen Yansen returned to the bedroom, leaned against the headboard, and held Song Yuncheng in his arms.

“Hold it tight!”

Chen Yansen ordered.

Song Yuncheng stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open just a sliver. Seeing it was Chen Yansen, she relaxed, let her head loll to the side, and closed her eyes again.

Seeing how limp she was, Chen Yansen had to hold the thermometer for her, wrap his arm around her shoulders, and make sure she clamped it tightly.

Five minutes later, the reading spiked to 39.1 degrees.

Chen Yansen grabbed the medicine bag by the bedside, popped a fever-reducing pill into her mouth, pried her lips open, forced it in, then gave her half a bottle of electrolyte water.

After giving her the medicine, he remembered to check if she’d injured herself when she fell.

He turned her over and found scrapes on her knees and palms; he tore open a bandage and stuck it on.

“You’re deliberately trying to keep me from eating meat.”

Chen Yansen held Song Yuncheng and patted her absently, grumbling.

He knew he wasn’t a good man, but he wouldn’t take advantage of her now. Leaning against the headboard, Chen Yansen thought of Wang Zihao.

In his past life, Wang Zihao had once had a fever and lay just like this in his arms.

Too bad—this guy like me would rather live life over than get married and have kids.

As he thought, sleep overcame him, and Chen Yansen fell asleep quickly.

(End of Chapter)